


Writers Lie, My Dear

by Iambicc



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay Characters, High School, Kind of a slow burn, M/M, Romance, STANDALL GAYNESS, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, frenemies to lovers, fully gey writing partnership, gay boys falling for each other basically, gay relationship, my boy Justin is oblivious but that's ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iambicc/pseuds/Iambicc
Summary: "Fuck you!""No thanks Justin, you're not man enough."Justin and Alex finds themselves in mandatory poetry meetings and discover that they don't hate each other as much as they are expected to. "It's called sexual tension," Ryan states.Sched for posting is confusing(sorry)





	1. They Lie About Pasts

**Author's Note:**

> Two gay boys find out there are consequences to fighting and obliviously flirt. Angst and fluff ensues.

_You’d think that douchebags would support each other in their supposed douchebag-ery,_ Alex thinks, _I must be the special douchebag._

Alex aims his right fist at Justin Foley’s precious face which is, unfortunately, not made to block Alex’s punch. Justin staggers back and looks at the other boy like he was ready to kill him at any moment. This is the look Alex is looking for, and it’s obvious because of that classic douchebag face he has on.

Is it mentioned that they’re douchebags?

Justin stretches his leg back, gaining enough momentum to knee Alex’s chest and to send him sprawling back. Alex falls on the trays of leftover food behind him and accidentally spills some milk on himself. People sitting near the scene have now backed away and are praying to God that someone would try to pry the two apart before they become a mosaic of the special Thursday meatloaf and other things nobody wanted. Justin laughs at the image of Standall being covered in milk, and doesn’t notice the incoming ball of special Thursday meatloaf that everyone feared. The chunk of meat lands on his jersey sleeve, painting it with an unwanted mixture of meat and reminders of contributing to food shortage.

“Fuck you!” Justin shouts with his face turning red, enraged.

They both run and press foreheads while using their arms to push against each other. Foley wins and pins Standall against the wall. “No thanks Justin, you’re not man enough,” Alex says, cheeks turning pink. Justin stares into Alex’s eyes and they both stay silent. You could see that Alex is embarrassed and is trying to find some sort of fast solution. Justin gives him a perplexed look. Everyone in the cafeteria stares in confusion but shakes their head when Standall slaps Justin’s face away. “Hah,” Alex weakly says. But before the brunette could retaliate with more violence, Mr. Porter steps in with a knowing grimaced look.

“Hi Porta-Potty.” Alex casually says, earning a sigh from the teacher. “This is, like, the third time this month?” Mr. Porter says, “Come with me to my office.” The two boys act as if they never even laid a hand on each other, as they obey Mr. Porter and shuffle behind him quietly. They walked quietly, wincing from the gashes and other remnants from their fight. They both looked straight ahead, obedient yet prideful. The guidance counselor opens the wooden door and takes a seat, staring at them with a disappointed look. They take this as their signal to sit down on the designated seats they know so well from the two other fights.

“I take it that you fought again because your friend group is in shambles, and you can’t tell me why?”

“Yes,” they mumble.

Porter shouldn’t be able to know what they were really fighting about. The tapes and Clay, Clay and the tapes—what else is new? They stare at each other in silent agreement. Even if they are frenemies (?) they both know the drill, use the-friend-group-is-in-shambles-lie and don’t mention anything about the tapes. The professor stares at the empty space between them, to Justin, and then to Alex. “I’ve already tried detention, asking your friends about it, making you two write letters, and etc. I’m at a loss for what to do to fix you two,” he says, propping his face up with his palm. “I don’t want to suspend both of you, so I’m going to propose an after-school activity that may perhaps calm you down.” The two beat-up boys stare at each other again, seemingly Porter got their attention with that.

“I’m recommending that you two participate in Ryan’s poetry sessions for 5 meetings, at the very least. I heard that it’s being headed by a professional, and I would appreciate if you two would use it to… _channel your energy.”_

Alex thinks it’s a ridiculous idea, “But-”

Porter cuts him off, “but nothing, Standall. You two have caused enough _violence_ in this school.”

Justin and Alex try to object but nothing comes out except a reluctant “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll have Ryan watch you two too, so make sure that you’re actually participating properly.”

***

Alex Standall knows what he’s good at—fucking up, being sarcastic, and being very very angsty. He recognizes that those are the primary talents of a supposed poet, but he doesn’t want to be one. Alex’s life is just one bad point to another, poems aren’t supposed to be like that, they’re supposed to show how you’ve progressed in really flowery ways or some shit like that. But his life is just a bunch of ‘yes sir’s and teenage angst. He also acknowledges that his life will be one **_worse_** point to another if he doesn’t abide to Porter’s wants, so, after classes, he toughens up and walks over to Shaver himself to ask.

“Hey,” the albino-haired boy starts.

Ryan seems a bit taken aback, but not at all surprised. “Hey.”

“Did you hear from Mr. Porter?”

“Yes, I appreciate new members, but I wouldn’t appreciate it if you create a mess of the library.”

“We’re not gonna do anything, alright? I just want this over with.”

“No need to get your panties in a twist, Standall. We meet up every Friday at the local library. Be there or be an ingrate.” Alex says, rolling his eyes while walking away.

 _That wasn’t so bad,_ Alex thinks to himself. He makes his way down the hallway and peers outside through the glass door. _I definitely don’t want to ride with them today,_ he muses, _not after all of the crap Foley pulled._

He ponders on that moment of silence between the two of them - _what is wrong with me? I didn’t want to think about it while Porter was lecturing us, I didn’t want to think of it at all...maybe I’m just sick. Sick enough to consider looking at Justin Foley’s stupid crap jock face for a prolonged interval. Fuck, this has been happening too much._ He pushes the door open and finds himself in the parking lot; _I guess I’m destined to walk._ He plugs in his earphones and listens to some Declan McKenna. Soon enough, all thoughts of Justin Foley are forgotten. He steps to the beat on the sidewalk, not paying any attention to the cracks or mothers’ backs he could be breaking.

***

Justin Foley is aware that he is emotional yet emotionally closed off, like a flashlight with the wrong batteries, or a pencil that breaks in the middle of an exam, like people who put milk before cereal - like Alex Standall and his ability to have such an infuriating pretty face, etcetera etcetera. Justin is contradicting and inconvenient.

And he definitely did not think of Standall as pretty, he’s just...

distracting?

He makes him feel confused.

_Tch, he’s just Jessica’s emo ex and Clay’s weird protector._

“Hey Foley! Get in the car,” Zach shouts, interrupting Justin’s train of thought (which was very welcome too). Justin looks up to see Zach waving at him frantically. From his spot, he could make out the silhouettes of several people: Marcus and his bald head, Montgomery and his lax posture, Sheri and her curls, and other jocks with their amazingly buff figures. There was no Bryce, Jess, or Alex to be seen. This calms the brunette down, as he doesn’t want to see them at moment, but he knows that he should text Jess. He texts Jess a short “where are you?” And, as to be expected, she didn’t reply. Justin runs to the car aggressively, trying to take his thoughts off Jess. _You did this to yourself,_ Justin gathers, _now you pay the price._

He jumps over the car door and into the front seat, next to Dempsey. “Hey dude.” Zach greets, giving a small smile. Justin’s left pocket vibrates, signaling that he received a text message. Jessica replies with an equally short response, but it’s enough to put him at ease, “Dad picked me up bc he wanted to dine out.” _She’s safe,_ Justin muses, _thank fucking god._ He looks to the road ahead and wonders where he’ll sleep tonight. “Let’s just hope that I sleep in my _**own**_ house,” he mutters bitterly. No one says anything back.

***

Alex chews silently in front of his dad. His dad is telling his mom about some story about how he wrestled a criminal or drank beer filled with testosterone, you know, manly things. Alex couldn’t care less. “Alex,” his dad begins, “I’m very disappointed with how you’ve been acting up at school.” _Now that’s surprising._ But his dad winked at him and gestured to his mom with a shake of his head, dispelling all confusion he felt. _Oh._

His mom butts in, with food still in her mouth, “Alex, the school called again, you should be glad you weren’t suspended. You really need to control your **temper.”** She slices off a piece of potato with her spoon, emphasizing the word “temper.” She gazes at her son who is mindlessly prodding the peas on his plate.

“Is that understood, Alex?” She says in a calm but steely tone.

“Yes,” Alex stares at his plate even harder.

She didn’t say anything else for the rest of dinner except some words of affirmation whilst Mr. Standall grumbles about laws.

Alex didn’t eat his peas anymore.

After dinner, his father calls him into his office. “I’m so proud of you,” he beams, eyes twinkling at the idea of masculinity. “We won’t have any wimps in our house!” Alex curls his lips inwards and nods. “What did Porter suggest - poetry? That doesn’t seem that good of a disciplining method…” Alex replies, “No sir, but I think I’ll need it if I still want to be in school.”

Mr. Standall nods, “I’m glad you’re making up for it son, even if I see nothing to be mad about.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Justin sneaks into his house, hearing the drunken snores of his mother and her boyfriend. He creeps past the living room filled with the smell of booze and the sound of a TV, unguarded with its amazing deals and capitalism. The teenage boy steps quietly into his room and collapses on the bed. “Shit, I forgot to ask Ryan for the days of that stupid poetry meeting,” being uncomfortable with the idea of texting Ryan, a complete stranger, he texts a lesser stranger.

‘hey you shit, what are the dates for that idiotic poetry thing??’

Alex jolts back in his seat, _a text from Foley?_ He grunts and thinks of what to say back.

‘f u too foley, they’re on fridays’

‘shit, tomorrow’s thursday’ Alex’s eyes widen, _it’s too near!_

‘shit’ he texts back.

‘idk what to write, standall’

‘why don’t u write about how tortured u are u white male’ Alex snickers.

‘I thought that was your duty, you white haired fuck’ Justin bites back.

‘I’m foley, I’m super handsome and all girls want my problematic ass!!!’

‘did you just call me handsome??’

‘no I’m mocking u’

_‘oh **really?’**_

_That was the extent of that conversation._ Alex walks to his bed and whines once his head hits his pillow, “Stupid **Foley.** ” _Didn’t know he knew how to shut up,_ Justin smirks to himself in his own bedroom, _he called me handsome. What a tool._

This is how they were, they fight, they fight some more, and then they talk and resolve to become frenemies again.

Just like that.

***

Alex ponders on what to write about. _My ass will probably be kicked if I don’t treat this seriously enough._ He’s sat outside the cafeteria, leaning on a tree; he has his legs tucked towards his chest, holding his English notebook whilst doodling buildings thoughtlessly. Thank god he already did his homework for the next periods, or else he’d need to stress about more things with this stupid poem. _Come on teenage angst, where are you now when I need you?_

He blows up his cheeks and lets air out incrementally. He reminisces on what’s happened in the past few days and what exactly led him to this very spot, under a tree, writing a poem. A girl is dead for fuck’s sake, and that was his fault. He was the beginning of the tornado, the butterfly who flapped its wings at just the right (or wrong) time. “F-M-L,” he says, then begins writing.

***

Justin watches Alex writing furiously on the gray notebook in his hands and pausing randomly just to resume abusing it with his pen once more. He grabs his half-eaten sandwich and walks towards the door. He doesn’t see the puzzled faces of his friends.

“Hey, Standall.”

Alex jumps a little from his position but calms down with a white noise type of rage behind his pupils, “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me,” the brunette says, pursing his lips. He rubs his neck and gazes at the spot next to Alex. “Can I sit?”

“Not a good idea, but I’m not stopping you.”

“How kind of you, King Standall,” Justin states sarcastically.

“Yeah, there’s more where that came from.” Alex faintly replies.

“What you writing?” Justin inquires as he sits down.

“Um, none of your business.”

“Not even for super handsome Foley?”

“Get over yourself. It’s just a poem.”

“You’ve already started on that? Damn.”

“I just want it over with,” Alex whispers, giving a sarcastic smile.

“Maybe I should try to make it too then,” Justin snarkily replies, “can you spare some paper?”

“Anything for my loyal subjects.”

Justin grabs the paper and tucks in one leg, leaving the other to stretch. He flicks Standall’s shoulder blade and smiles goofily. Alex quickly avoids his gaze and shifts his body away from the brunette. The said brunette cups his own face and pouts, making popping sounds to get noticed. Alex looks back and smacks him with his notebook, “just write, okay? God…” Justin smiles and pretends he didn’t see how pink the albino-haired boy’s ears were. _So easy to tease,_ he contemplates, _probably why we fight so much._

Justin wonders what he should write about, _something vague yet serious enough to make Ryan **not** kick me out of his stupid poetry sessions._ It was strange, trying to deconstruct his complicated feelings into something verbal and somewhat concrete. Justin knows that he is not built for emotions - _I mean, short-tempered, shit past, and shit life? Sign me the fuck out._ Although, he does think that maybe, just maybe, poems were made for emotionally confused people like him. _That’s probably why I can’t do it,_ he frowns while drawing stick people with many assorted circles. _Don’t want to get kicked out though._ So he writes and erases, writes and erases, until Standall notices and makes a joke about him being illiterate.

 _ **“Christ,**_ Standall. You need him.”

“Amen, Foley.”

His sandwich goes unnoticed for the rest of the break.

***

Friday morning creeps into Justin’s window blinds as several streaks of gentle light. _Today’s the day Justin Foley proves that he is somewhat literate, because Standall doesn’t know anything._ The brunette stretches his body and stands without fixing the bed. He groggily walks to the bathroom, using any wall available as some sort of crutch in his journey. He leans on the bathroom wall and begins to undress. He turns the handle and pivots his body so that his back is facing the shower. Their science teacher said that having access to running water is a blessing, and Justin did not sense the need to argue.

After his shower, he sits down while putting on clothes. The poem was on his right side, sinking towards his hips due to his weight. _Something doesn’t seem right, it seemed too fake and short?_ He reads it again for good measure. 

|||

_everyone is a **giant,**_

_but not in the sense of **height,**_

_more of in the sense of what they can **do**_

_they can **hurl rocks** at me_

_they can hold me up in their **giant palms** and threaten to let go_

_and they could make me feel so **small.**_

|||

A crash of a beer bottle (a sound too familiar now to forget) disrupts his reading and makes him shiver in fear.

 **“Justin,”** a rough tone speaks. That tone spoke of many catastrophic things, like storms, dying flowers, and the many times Justin found chips of aforementioned beer bottles on his clothing, almost piercing into his skin. “School called today,” his mom’s boyfriend says, entering the room and leaning on the door frame. “What kind of trouble did you get into again, **dipshit?”** Justin hyperventilated and mumbled, “I’m taking care of it.” That seems to have enraged the man even more, although that did not come as a surprise, since everything made him mad. He sucks in air and seems to belittle him with every angry blink of his eyes.

“You’re such a _**shitty little teenager,**_ god, why were you born?”

Justin grabs his stuff and makes his way to the door, his mom’s boyfriend lunges after him but misses. Justin picks up his shoes on the way out and feels confidence flowing through his body as he runs.

“I was born to annoy you, **fucker!** ”

At that moment, he was ready to cry and laugh at the same time. He attempted to do both, making some sort of strange choking sound and confusing passersby.

He knows what to add to his poem now.

“Fucking **shitty** world,” he giggle-sobs.

***

“Justin! Where were you? You were almost late to first period!” Jessica exclaims.

“Look, I’m sorry, ok? My mom’s boyfriend was acting up again, I couldn’t get proper transportation.”

“You worried me…”

“I’m sorry, Jess.” _For more things than one._

“It’s fine, I understand, I just wish you would give me a heads-up sometimes.”

“I’m sorry, I know I should’ve,” he shifts to face her from his seat and kisses her forehead. She looks at him like he’s the light of the world and it doesn’t help Justin’s guilty conscience. He was like the moon, he only reflects borrowed light, he doesn’t have any of his own. She smiles a sad little smile and he awkwardly grins a little back.

Unbeknownst to them, Alex Standall is furious and right behind them.”I’m sorry, I’ve just been noticing that you’re so nervous and out of school all the time,” she frowns. He stares at her lovingly. _God! Does he have to touch Jessica like that? He’s a sick little shit!_ But he’s confused because he doesn’t know if he wants Justin to stop touching Jess because he’s a problematic dick or for more selfish reasons. He grumbles in his desk, alarming Jensen next to him. “You okay, dude?” Clay asks.

“What the fuck do you think Jensen?”

Before Clay could stutter out reply, a teacher walks in and halts conversation in the room with her mere presence.

“Fuck,” whispers Alex to himself.

He takes out his notebook and adds more to his poem out of boredom and contempt for everything. _Human interaction is like masculinity._

_Needed for some unknown **goddamn** reason._

_A reason, yes, but unknown **nonetheless.**_

Justin knows Jess is mad, this was just the calm before a storm, tricking you to stay until your house gets ripped apart when it’s all over. _She knows,_ he thinks, grimacing.

***

“Pass the sign-up sheet around, please? Only sign up for slots you’ll actually use,” A man with curly locks says. He has a cream-colored scarf tied around his neck and a beige jacket to go with it.

“Oh, you must be the newcomers Ryan told me about. My name’s Robert.” He states as he walks towards Alex and Justin. They both give an acknowledging nod. Ryan beams and steps towards the podium. He catches everyone’s attention with a flick of his wrist. “Everyone, these are Justin and Alex. They said that they will be joining us for a few meetings, but I do hope they will do so continuously.” Robert pauses to gesture to them, “Introduce yourselves.”

Alex and Justin gaze at each other with matched looks of I-have-no-desire-to-do-that-at-all. They receive taps from behind them and see Ryan holding his hand up to his face, pointing to his lips, he mouths “Porter.” They both realize that they’re being threatened and stand up at the same time.

“I’m Alex Standall and I hope this group will be, um, good?”

“I sure hope so too,” Robert adds.

“I’m Justin Foley and I hope the same as well?”

“Alright. Thank you for introducing yourselves. Would anyone like to set the pace?”

Ryan raises his hand midway and says, “I think one of the new boys should do it.” Alex and Justin both groan and glare at each other, as if saying “you go first!” with their eyes. Alex huffs and puts his fist down on his palm with a quiet **‘thud.’** The brunette understands and mimics Alex, “Shoot on go.”

“Rock, paper, scissors, **go**!”

Justin loses.

 ** _“HAH!”_** Alex exclaims, “I win, get on the podium, jackass.”

“Shit,” Justin mutters, “best out of three?”

“No way, that’ll take too long.” Alex pushes Justin’s side. Justin glowers at Alex with all his might but Alex just raises an eyebrow. Everyone glances expectantly at him.

“Alright, alright! Fine…”

Justin breathes in and starts to move towards the podium, with the creaks of an old library guiding him. The trip ends too early and he makes it to the elevated wooden space in a few seconds.

“Um, this is called ‘Giants.’ Hopefully it matches your, um, expectations.”

He shuffles nervously and Alex bites the inside of his cheek. Ryan just stares judgmentally.

Justin inhales once more. So does Alex.

“everyone is a **_giant,_**

but not in the sense of **height,**

more of in the sense of what they can **do.**

they can **hurl rocks** at me,

they can **hold me up in their _giant_ palms** and **threaten** to let go,

and they could make me feel _**so small.**_

but what’s really **terrifying** with everyone is that,

I could’ve **not** compared them to a giant

and they

could

and probably would still

 **hurl rocks** at me,

 **hold me up in their _giant_ palms** and **threaten** to let go,

and make me feel **_so, so small.”_**

Alex gasps, not hearing the tiny applause surrounding him. Alex has never seen Justin as vulnerable as this before. _I want to touch him._

Ryan stares at his face, knowingly.

“Come out, come out, little boy.”


	2. They Lie About Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delve into Alex's angsty thoughts, jealousy and fluff ensues. Zach Dempsey is cute and Justin is an angery man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE!!! MY WIFI GAVE UP ON ME HUHU
> 
> Also, thank you to all the people who commented!!! It made me feel motivated to write but the wIFI-_-)  
> I hope yáll enjoy this chapter and I love my editor wooo  
> Song: Down by Dodie

Justin Foley has emotions painted across his face. When he’s mad, the shadows cast over him more, making his facial expressions **dark.** While he’s happy, **pink** hues pepper the corners of his smile. During times of sadness, **dark brown** causes the lines on his face to seem deeper. And when he’s afraid…  
_He has a ghostly **white** appearance._  


Alex Standall gawks at Foley, with **peach** embarrassment slapped across his cheeks. Ryan smirks behind him and sighs. With every lilt of the brunette’s voice, a _canvas_ of pure emotion formed—a mix of everything. Alex’s heart weirdly aches when the other boy furrows his eyebrows. _Fuck, Justin,_ he puts a palm on his forehead, _I want to touch him._  


_That’s such a weird fucking thought. Christ, Standall._  


Ryan looks at his stricken face and smiles, “Come out, come out, little boy.”  


“Fuck off Shaver,” Alex whips his head back, “not my type.”  


“Sure Jan.” Ryan points to Justin, awkwardly walking down the aisle. Alex straightens his back and tries to look stern. Justin pauses, gazing at Alex’s pouting face, “Why do you look like a kicked puppy?” He grabs the handle of the chair and sits next to Alex.  


“Just surprised that you weren’t as illiterate as I thought you’d be.”  


“Geez, sorry Standall.” Justin raises his hands up in surrender, with a cheeky smile on his face.  


“Why don’t you just admit it?” Ryan asks.  


Alex glares at his face and Ryan sticks his tongue out.  


“Okay,” Alex puts a smug expression on, “I’ll admit.”  


Ryan doesn’t try to hide his dumbstruck face, Justin just looks confused, “admit what?”  


“That I didn’t even think that you were **that** illiterate so, um, it wasn’t that hard a standard to reach in the first place.” Alex grins defiantly and basks in Shaver’s annoyed face.  


“Thanks?” Justin glances to his side, unsure.  


“Your turn, Standall.”  


Alex huffs and looks at Robert’s expectant face.  


“Tch, fine.”

 

***

Alex is running through an endless **black** tunnel, his footsteps echo and ricochet against the unseen walls. Multiple posters hover with the words shifting from ‘get help.’ to ‘don’t be a fucking dick.’ Shadows emerge from the posters and combine. The mass moves violently behind him, heavy static matching each movement. Alex tries not to see the gigantic hands within his peripheral vision and dodges on impulse. He feels the air around him push against his sides. _Shit, shit, **shit!**_  


“You’ve heard of the **butterfly effect,** right?”  


Every word is like a punch to his gut, _I know that voice._  


“That if a butterfly **flaps** its wings at just the _right time_...”  


He feels the floor melting into black goo, “I’m sorry **Hannah!** ”  


“it causes a hurricane thousands of miles away.”  


“Fuck, fuck, **FUCK!** ” The black abyss swallows Alex’s hips.  


“Alex Standall. You caused the hurricane.”  


Alex finds himself at the tip of a pen, a dot of ink in the word ‘ass.’  


_“Hannah please!”_  


“It’s your turn.”  


Alex is overwhelmed by the dark matter and finds Clay, bleeding continuously. Clay opens his mouth but Alex’s voice flows out of it, **“what do you think?”** It shifts to his own voice, “did you do what she said you did?”  


The inky liquid turns into blue water. Alex jolts back as he is surprised with Justin with his eyes closed. Justin chokes on water and Alex grabs him by the shoulders. He carries the brunette and starts to kick upwards. Justin whispers into his ears with a strange clarity.  


_“Did you?”_  


Alex grasps his bed sheet and tries to steady his breathing. He grabs his shirt and wipes off the sweat pooling at the crown of his head, ignoring the wet streaks under his eyelids. He stares at his bed, quietly acknowledging the tears flowing to the bottom of his chin.  


***

  


_“But I mean, seriously, it was just a list. Like, a stupid high school thing.”_  


_“That fucking list. I wish I never touched that fucking list.”_  


_“Why did you?”_  


_“I don’t know. Bryce started it. All the guys were working on it at lunch.”_  


_“Why are you even friends with those guys? Justin, Zach, Bryce...”_  


_“No, see, I’m not friends with Bryce.”_  


Alex remembers what it was like to be a friend of Bryce’s. _It felt freeing, liberating. It’s like sitting on Goliath’s shoulder, if anyone had the gall to do that._ But he is also reminded of how it is to endure it now. _Like David just hurled his stone and I were the one struck first. Bryce remains proud. Meanwhile, I remain, well, falling._  
He sits at his desk, observing the time. _2:27, six more hours until I have to go to school._ He tries not to think of what he just dreamt of. It doesn’t help that his mind brings him to the subject of Bryce instead. _That dream was that fucked up? Fuck, I feel more comfortable thinking of fucking Walker…_  


_“My dad was relieved that I had male friends. Also, didn’t totally suck at school that Justin Foley liked me back then.”_  
_“Okay, back then. Why are you friends with them now?”_  
_“Because if I stop hanging out, then they’re going to know something’s up. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”_  
_“But you don’t even deserve to be on there, I mean, you meant it as a compliment.”_  
_“No, no. I meant it to piss Jessica off. Because she wouldn’t have sex with me.”_

He bends down to grab his backpack and rummages through the crumpled notebook paper and the smell of discarded candy wrappers. He feels around the edge for the familiar texture of plastic frays and fake leather. He pulls a stone hued notebook out and proceeds to flip to the most recent page.  
_“It’s okay, man.”_  
_“No, it’s not. It’s not okay. You want it to be okay because then you get off the hook, but you’re losing your shit.”_  
_Clay stops and stares._  
_“You want to think whatever you did couldn’t be the reason Hannah killed herself.”_  
_Clay continues to stay silent._  
_“But the truth is that I did, I killed Hannah Baker!” Alex pauses and continues._  
_“We all killed Hannah Baker.”_  
_Alex doesn’t notice the tear cascading down his cheek._  


|||  
_I'm in my **car** ,_  
_driving **up** and **down** ,_  
_**left** and **right** ,_  
_and **through** the city of lights._  
_**blending** into the background of a **busy street,**_  
_I am so_  
_**amazed** by all_  
_the_  
_shiny_  
_and illuminated_  
**_pieces_**  
_making up the city,_  
_that I **can't help**_  
**_trying_**  
_to **impress** the city back,_  
_with my_  
_shiny car_  
_and glaring_  
_headlights,_  
_forgetting that..._  
_**cities?**_ _they were_  
**_never_** _meant to be pleased_  
_but, I will try because_  
_~~I’m stupid~~_  
_that is who I am ~~?~~_  
|||  


Alex has changed during the past few weeks; he knows that. But the past few days? He’s been transformed. _The poem suddenly seems meaningless now,_ he leans toward the paper filled with doodles of buildings and presses hard with his writing hand, creating a small smudge. He checks the time once more. _2;30...I don’t just feel transformed, I feel...regenerated._  


_The biggest of changes seem to happen in the shortest of times._  


_Must be the fucking early hour._  


He erases a couple of lines and begins to write over the newly blank spaces.

__

***

  


Alex Standall is like a book filled with complexity—intricate vocabulary, plot twists, characters with duality and variety, and palaces to conquer. Yes, he is quite the perplexing story, but he also has a very contradictory ending—the type to conclude with “the-friendship-was-the-treasure-all-along” or “the-nice-guy-gets-the-girl.” He gives you the thrill of being mysterious and then acts like your average douchebag. 

_Disappointing piece of shit,_ Justin simpers.  


_We’re probably friends because I’m the dictionary definition of average douchebag._  


This is how Justin Foley would describe Alex Standall.  


_He’s always ready to bewilder._  


And that’s what he did.  


The white-haired boy strides towards the podium and pins his ash-colored notebook against his waist with his arm. He steps onto the elevated space and puts the notebook down. He holds the spiral spine and skips to the most recently used page. Alex grips the sides of the wooden podium and stares at the audience.  
Justin watches him closely, eyes squinting. _Alex has never been this nervous...should I be worried?_  
_Nah, he’s got this._  


Justin crosses his arms and leans back into the soft cushion of the chair. He positions his legs to be far apart, steadying himself.  
Ryan bends forth and observes Justin’s nervous expression.  


“You care more than you’d like to admit, Foley.”  


“Fuck off Shaver, you fucking weirdo.”  


Alex lips his lips, “I hope you enjoy this. It’s called ‘Cities,’ and - uh - yeah.” 

I'm in my **car** ,  
driving **up** and **down** ,  
**left** and **right** ,  
and **_through_** _the city of lights._  
**blending** into the background of a **busy street,**  
I am so  
**amazed** by all  
the  
_shiny_  
and _illuminated_  
**_pieces_**  
making up the city,  
that I **can't help**  
**_trying_**  
to **impress** the city back,  
with my  
_shiny car_  
and _glaring_  
headlights,  
forgetting that...  
**cities?** they were  
**never** meant to be _pleased_ ,  
and that, with all  
of its _shiny_  
and _illuminated_  
_**pieces,**_  
It was probably used  
to people like **_me_ **  
**** A not so  
_shiny_  
or _illuminated_  
_**piece**_  
That wasn't **meant** to fit into it.” 

********

Justin looks down with a muddled expression on his face, _that’s weird, what’s this feeling? Is it...sentiment?_ He focuses on the other side of the room and meets Alex’s eyes.  


_Well, it’s definitely...something._  


_This is the same feeling I had when I was watching him chug down that alcohol. I mean, he fucking quit Jazz band. I’m…_  


_I’m worried for him._  


Ryan gazes at the two of them and mutters something unintelligible. You could only properly hear the words ‘gay shits’ and something about a certain piece of _furniture_. Ryan acknowledges that nobody’s really paying attention to him and places his chin on the chair in front of him.  


“Who knew that Standall would be capable of this?”  


“Y-yeah,” Justin mumbles, still not looking away.  


“Oblivious dolt.”  


“Mhm.”  


Ryan gives up. 

***

  


Alex fiddles with his plastic goggles, walking with Bryce and Zach next to him. He spots Jessica and Justin all over each other and snaps the band against his neck. “Ow, fuck!” Zach looks at him and laughs, “What did you think was gonna happen, you bitch?” Alex smiles a little and looks at the taller man, “Fuck off, Dempsey.” Zach stupidly beams and ignores the comment, “the only one who will be fucking off is you, Standall.” 

Bryce rolls his eyes, “Come on, you sons of bitches, hurry the fuck up.” Alex’s smile weakens and Zach notices, patting his arm. Alex passes by Justin and looks the other way, _I don’t wanna look at that sick display. Justin kissing Jessica?_  
__  


**Ugh.**  
  


Justin stops to look at Alex and yells. “Hey fuckwad!” Alex’s shoulders tense and Zach puts a hand on Alex’s lower back, ushering him forward. “Fuck off, Foley!” Zach shouts. Justin grins but feels heat on his neck rising to his head, _I feel so annoyed...why?_ He observes Alex grin at Zach and he tugs at his faux leather jacket. 

“Babe, is there something wrong?” Justin embraces Jessica and smiles, “no, not ever.”  
“It better not be, while I’m here.” Jessica twirls her fake blonde tresses.  
“Of course not Jess.” Justin laughs and doesn’t pay attention to the _emptiness_ behind his words.  


***

  


Justin and Jessica dance to the music of people shouting. He twirls Jessica around him and raises his hands in the air slowly. Alex rolls his eyes and bites his snorkel even harder, _stupid costume day_. Zach wiggles his arms around and holds Alex’s hand. “Let’s make a wave!” Alex stares at the childish purity in the other boy’s eyes and fakes an annoyed look. They both shimmy and laugh at themselves. “Okay everybody, **drumroll please!”**  
Justin’s hands ball up into fists but he focuses his energy into dancing with Jessica. Alex doesn’t notice and pretends to swim around.  


“Tight race, you guys, but I think we’ve narrowed down our finalists.” Courtney beams and flips her pink hair. Her colorful skirt moves with her as she walks towards the contestants. “We’re gonna choose the winner by applause.”  
“The costume with the most applause takes home 200 smackers, so…”  
The crowd cheers and claps. Courtney steps in front of Alex, Bryce, and Zach, “mud divers!”  


That was the cue to impress the crowd. Bryce jumps onto Zach’s back and pretends to fly. Alex flails his hand around, attempting to look like a jellyfish. Bryce launches off Zach’s back and starts to jump wildly. Zach tries to do a backstroke on the floor. Justin feeds off the hype of the audience and clutches Jessica’s hip as she twerks on him. Alex takes off his goggles and stares at the floor. _Nobody notices anyway._  
“Okay, okay. Ladies and gents, I think we have a winner!”  
Jessica grabs Justin’s shoulders as he wraps his arms around her.  
“Justin and Jessica as sexy punk rockers!”  
She grasps Justin’s face and connects their lips. Everyone at the bleachers starts to squeal and cheer. People start to surround the couple and Alex just tightens his grip around his goggles.  
“It’s Sid and Nancy, get some culture, Courtney.”  
He remains unseen. 

***

  


Alex jogs to the music room and pushes the door open. He almost trips on a rogue flute but manages to stabilize himself before he recognizes a silhouette of a black guitar case with a ghost keychain with it. Promptly taking it by the strap, he hauls it out of the room. He runs down the hallway. Justin quickly glances at the white-haired figure that quickly disappears as he turns the corner. _What the fuck?_  


The white-haired teen races across the cafeteria, garnering strange looks. He rushes outside and sits down, leaning onto the tree and opening the case. He positions himself properly, clutching the black neck of his guitar. Alex stares up at the trees.  


“I woke up as heavy as lead,  
an ocean of **worry** weighs me down in bed,  
but there’s _things_ to do,  
there’s a __  
**life**  
to live…  
must _**ignore** my **stupid** head._ ” 

Alex doesn’t notice Justin on the opposite side, listening to each word. He continues to play, singing with everything he’s got. _I have no idea what I’m feeling, but I’m sure as hell that I won’t be consumed by it._  


“Friends float above in the wind,  
bright balloons pulling them up as they grin.  
But there’s _things_ to do,  
there’s a _**life**_ to live,  
let’s _**ignore** the things I think._ ”

Justin takes his outstretched legs and pulls them closer, feeling the slight bumps of pebbles beneath his shoes. He nibbles on his thumb. _Why am I here?_  
_He just looked so...sad?_  
_Why do I care?_  


Alex drags a hand through his hair and hums to himself. For a few minutes, he wants to be **free** from the world. He wants to **forget** that there’s a Hannah six feet below him and he’s the reason why she didn’t properly say goodbye. He wants to **forget** that he was the one who turned the key to Hannah Baker’s misery and buried it deep deep down with every dot of ink wasted on that stupid list. He wants to **forget** how the drinks from Monet’s taste like. He wants to **forget** Justin Foley’s stupid face on Jessica’s. He wants to **forget** that he used to be someone. **_But nothing ever comes that easy...not for Alex Standall._**  


“It's like walking around with a **stone** for a heart,  
people swimming in _honey_ as your life **falls apart**.  
It's **cold** and it's dark and there's _**no way out,**_  
I felt like you once, I _wish_ I could **_shout_**.”

 

 _What brought this on?_ Alex thinks, _Oh right, I forgot._ _I’m a piece of shit._  
Alex repeats the chorus with much more **vigor**. Justin presses against the bark, wondering what Alex looks like. _Is he letting tears _stain_ his lips? Is he _exploding_ at the seams, ready to **burst**? Or does he have _no_ expression at all?_  


Justin doesn’t know which would be the most concerning.  
Alex’s singing comes to an abrupt stop and Justin panics, _what happened?_  


“I know you’re there, Foley.”  


Justin’s eyes widen and he quickly stands up and holds onto the tree to maintain his balance. He walks over to Standall and stares at him with an incredulous look, “how’d you do that?” Alex sits up and rolls his eyes, “you’re like a fucking elephant you know. I heard your phone buzz.”  


“How’d you know it was my phone?” Justin scratches his neck and is embarrassed that he didn’t even hear his own ringtone due to his intense focus.  
Now it was Alex’s turn to serve him a skeptical look. “Who fucking else has Jessica’s laugh for their ringtone?”  
Justin shrugs and looks away, humiliated. 

“Fuck off, Standall.”  
“You’re so fucking cheesy.”  
Justin scoots closer, “Why don’t you continue the song?”  
“Well, captain obvious, you’re here.”  
“Does that matter?”  
“Of course it is, you fucking idiot, ever heard of privacy?”  
“Come on,” Justin pushes Alex’s guitar to his torso, “please?”  
“No fucking way,” Alex tries to press back but it’s obvious who will win.  


The brunette beams and pokes the other’s side. Alex struggles to catch Justin’s fingers with his palms, “don’t be a fucking child, Fol-AH! Geez, stop-” They accidentally lace fingers and Alex’s face instantly blossoms into a rosy hue. Justin uses it as an opportunity to guide Alex’s hand back to his guitar. Justin lets go of his palm and holds the back of it, gently pressing it onto the strings.  
“Please?” Justin doesn’t notice that he still has his hand covering Standall’s, revelling in the warmth. His face goes closer to the albino-haired boy without him paying attention to their proximity.  


Alex stutters,”I-I, um, okay?” His eyes blink rapidly in panic. He could feel his heart racing against his chest.  
Justin looks down at his hand and swiftly pulls it back. Alex gives a solemn expression and Justin’s eyesight dulls a bit. Their shoulders stay close together.  


“You never can undo the **brain**.  
Now it knows of the **holes,** it will fall as it's trained.”  


Justin closes his eyes and hums the now familiar tune. Alex glances at him and thinks, _he has nice eyelashes._  


“Cause there’s _things_ to do,  
there’s a _**life**_ to live…  
Watch them _laugh_  
while you _stay in...the **rain**._ ”

“You sing well.”  
“Fuck off.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the rumors of Miles and Brandon dating, so here I am. This is the first fanfic I'll be doing here, hopefully I don't get lazy. My editor sucks bc she judges me.


End file.
